if.goldfinger-第17节

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bs。　They　were　a　brand　new　set　of　American　Ben　Hogans　with　smart　St　Marks　leather　covers　for　the　woods。　The　bag　was　one　of　the　stitched　black　leather　holdalls　favoured　by　American　pros。　The　clubs　were　in　individual　cardboard　tubes　for　easy　extraction。　It　was　a　pretentious　outfit；　but　the　best。
　'Toss　for　honour？'　Goldfinger　flicked　a　coin。
　'Tails。'
　It　was　heads。　Goldfinger　took　out　his　driver　and　unpeeled　a　new　ball。　He　said；　'Dunlop　65。　Number　One。　Always　use　the　same　ball。　What's　yours？'
　Tenfold。　Hearts。'
　Goldfinger　looked　keenly　at　Bond。　'Strict　Rules　of　Golf？'
　'Naturally。'
　'Right。'　Goldfinger　walked　on　to　the　tee　and　teed　up。　He　took　one　or　two　careful；　concentrated　practice　swings。　It　was　a　type　of　swing　Bond　knew　well　…　the　grooved；　mechanical；　repeating　swing　of　someone　who'had　studied　the　game　with　great　care；　read　all　the　books　and　spent　five　thousand　pounds　on　the　finest　pro　teachers。　It　would　be　a　good；　scoring　swing　which　might　not　collapse　under　pressure。　Bond　envied　it。
　Goldfinger　took　up　his　stance；　wagged　gracefully；　took　his　club　head　back　in　a　wide　slow　arc　and；　with　his　eyes　glued　to　the　ball；　broke　his　wrists　correctly。　He　brought　the　club　head　mechanically；　effortlessly；　down　and　through　the　ball　and　into　a　rather　artificial；　copybook　finish。　The　ball　went　straight　and　true　about　two　hundred　yards　down　the　fairway。
　It　was　an　excellent；　uninspiring　shot。　Bond　knew　that　Goldfinger　would　be　capable　of　repeating　the　same　swing　with　different　clubs　again　and　again　round　the　eighteen　holes。
　Bond　took　his　place；　gave　himself　a　lowish　tee；　addressed　the　ball　with　careful　enmity　and；　with　a　flat；　racket…player's　swing　in　which　there　was　just　too　much　wrist　for　safety；　lashed　the　ball　away。　It　was　a　fine；　attacking　drive　that　landed　past　Goldfinger's　ball　and　rolled　on　fifty　yards。　But　it　had　had　a　shade　of　draw　and　ended　on　the　edge　of　the　left…hand　rough。
　They　were　two　good　drives。　As　Bond　handed　his　club　to　Hawker　and　strolled　off　in　the　wake　of　the　more　impatient　Goldfinger；　he　smelled　the　sweet　smell　of　the　beginning　of　a　knock…down…and…drag…out　game　of　golf　on　a　beautiful　day　in　May　with　the　larks　singing…over　the　greatest　seaside　course　in　the　world。
　The　first　hole　of　the　Royal　St　Marks　is　four　hundred　and　fifty　yards　long　…　four　hundred　and　fifty　yards　of　undulating　fairway　with　one　central　bunker　to　trap　a　mis…hit　second　shot　and　a　chain　of　bunkers　guarding　three…quarters　of　the　green　to　trap　a　well…hit　one。　You　can　slip　through　the　unguarded　quarter；　but　the　fairway　slopes　to　the　right　there　and　you　are　more　likely　to　end　up　with　a　nasty　first…chip…of…the…day　out　of　the　rough。　Goldfinger　was　well　placed　to　try　for　this　opening。　Bond　watched　him　take　what　was　probably　a　spoon；　make　his　two　practice　swings　and　address　the　ball。
　Many　unlikely　people　play　golf；　including　people　who　are　blind；　who　have　only　one　arm；　or　even　no　legs；　and　people　often　wear　bizarre　clothes　to　the　game。　Other　golfers　don't　think　them　odd；　for　there　are　no　rules　of　appearance　or　dress　at　golf。　That　is　one　of　its　minor　pleasures。　But　Goldfinger　had　made　an　attempt　to　look　smart　at　golf　and　that　is　the　only　way　of　dressing　that　is　incongruous　on　a　links。　Everything　matched　in　a　blaze　of　rust…coloured　tweed　from　the　buttoned　'golfer's　cap'　centred　on　the　huge；　flaming　red　hair；　to　the　brilliantly　polished；　almost　orange　shoes。　The　plus…four　suit　was　too　well　cut　and　the　plus…fours　themselves　had　been　pressed　down　the　sides。　The　stockings　were　of　a　matching　heather　mixture　and　had　green　garter　tabs。　It　was　as　if　Goldfinger　had　gone　to　his　tailor　and　said；　'Dress　me　for　golf　…　you　know；　like　they　wear　in　Scotland。'　Social　errors　made　no　impression　on　Bond；　and　for　the　matter　of　that　he　rarely　noticed　them。　With　Goldfinger　it　was　different。　Everything　about　the　man　had　grated　on　Bond's　teeth　from　the　first　moment　he　had　seen　him。　The　assertive　blatancy　of　his　clothes　was　just　part　of　the　malevolent　animal　magnetism　that　had　affected　Bond　from　the　beginning。
　Goldfinger　executed　his　mechanical；　faultless　swing。　The　ball　flew　true　but　just　failed　to　make　the　slope　and　curled　off　to　the　right　to　finish　pinhigh　off　the　green　in　the　short　rough。　Easy　five。　A　good　chip　could　turn　it　into　a　four；　but　it　would　have　to　be　a　good　one。
　Bond　walked　over　to　his　ball。　It　was　lying　cocked　up；　just　off　the　fairway。　Bond　took　his　number　four　wood。　Now　for　the　'all　air　route'　…　a　soaring　shot　that　would　carry　the　cross…bunkers　and　give　him　two　putts　for　a　four。　Bond　remembered　the　dictum　of　the　pros：　'It^s　never　too　early　to　start　winning。'　He　took　it　easy；　determined　not　to　press　for　the　long　but　fortable　carry。
　As　soon　as　Bond　had　hit　the　shot　he　knew　it　wouldn't　do。　The　difference　between　a　good　golf　shot　and　a　bad　one　is　the　same　as　the　difference　between　a　beautiful　and　a　plain　woman　…　a　matter　of　millimetres。　In　this　case；　the　club　face　had　gone　through　just　that　one　millimetre　too　low　under　the　ball。　The　arc　of　flight　was　high　and　soft　…　no　legs。　Why　the　hell　hadn't　he　taken　a　spoon　or　a　two　iron　off　that　lie？　The　ball　hit　the　lip　of　the　far　bunker　and　fell　back。　Now　it　was　the　blaster；　and　fighting　for　a　half。
　Bond　never　worried　too　long　about　his　bad　or　stupid　shots。　He　put　them　behind　him　and　thought　of　the　next。　He　came　up　with　the　bunker；　took　his　blaster　and　measured　the　distance　to　the　pin。　Twenty　yards。　The　ball　was　lying　well　back。　Should　he　splash　it　out　with　a　wide　stance　and　an　outside…in　swing；　or　should　he　blast　it　and　take　plenty　of　sand？　For　safety's　sake　he　would　blast　it　out。　Bond　went　down　into　the　bunker。　Head　down　and　follow　well　through。　The　easiest　shot　in　golf。　Try　and　put　it　dead。　The　wish；　half　way　down　his　bade　swing；　hurried　the　hands　in　front　of　the　club　head。　The　loft　was　killed　and　there　was　the　ball　rolling　back　off　the　face。　Get　it　out；　you　bloody　fool；　and　hole　a　long　putt！　Now　Bond　took　too　much　sand。　He　was　out；　but　barely　on　the　green。　Goldfinger　bent　to　his　chip　and　kept　his　head　down　until　the　ball　was　half　way　to　the　hole。　The　ball　stopped　three　inches　from　the　pin。　Without　waiting　to　be　given　the　putt；　Goldfinger　turned　his　back　on　Bond　and　walked　off　towards　the　second　tee。　Bond　picked　up　his　ball　and　took　his　driver　from　Hawker。
　'What　does　he　say　his　handicap　is；　sir？'
　'Nine。　It's　a　level　match。　Have　to　do　better　than　that　though。　Ought　to　have　taken　my　spoon　for　the　second。'
　Hawker　said　encouragingly；　'It's　early　days　yet；　sir。'
　Bond　knew　it　wasn't。　It　was　always　too　early　to　start　losing。
　
　CHAPTER　NINE
　
　THE　CUP　AND　THE　LIP
　
　GOLDFINGER　HAD　already　teed　up。　Bond　walked　slowly　behind　him；　followed　by　Hawker。　Bond　stood　and　leant　on　his　driver。　He　said；　'I　thought　you　said　we　would　be　playing　the　strict　rules　of　golf。　But　I'll　give　you　that　putt。　That　makes　you　one　up。'
　Goldfinger　nodded　curtly。　He　went　through　his　practice　routine　and　hit　his　usual　excellent；　safe　drive。
　The　second　hole　is　a　three　hundred　and　seventy　yard　dogleg　to　the　left　with　deep　cross…bunkers　daring　you　to　take　the　tiger's　line。　But　there　was　a　light　helping　breeze。　For　Goldfinger　it　would　now　be　a　five　iron　for　his　second。　Bond　decided　to　try　and　make　it　easier　for　himself　and　only　have　a　wedge　for。　the　green。　He　laid　his　ears　back　and　hit　the　ball　hard　and　straight　for　the　bunkers。　The　breeze　got　under　the　slight　draw　and　winged　the　ball　on　and　over。　The　ball　pitched　and　disappeared　down　into　the　gully　just　short　of　the　green。　A　four。　Chance　of　a　three。
　Goldfinger　strode　off　without　ment。　Bond　lengthened　his　stride　and　caught　up。　'How's　the　agoraphobia？　Doesn't　all　this　wide　open　space　bother　it？'
　'No。'
　Goldfinger　deviated　to　the　right。　He　glanced　at　the　distant；　half…hidden　flag；　planning　his　second　shot。　He　took　his　five　iron　and　hit　a　good；　careful　shot　which　took　a　bad　kick　short　of　the　green　and　ran　down　into　the　thick　grass　to　the　left。　Bond　knew　that　territory。　Goldfinger　would　be　lucky　to　get　down　in　two。
　Bond　walked　up　to　his　ball；　took　the　wedge　and　flicked　the　ball　on　to　the　green　with　plenty　of　stop。　The　ball　pulled　up　and　lay　a　yard　past　the　hole。　Goldfinger　executed　a　creditable　pitch　but　missed　the　twelve…foot　putt。　Bond　had　two　for　the　hole　from　a　yard。　He　didn't　wait　to　be　given　the　hole　but　walked　up　and　putted。　The　ball　stopped　an　inch　short。　Gold…finger　walked　off　the　green。　Bond　knocked　the　ball　in。　All　square。
　The　third　is　a　blind　two　hundred　and　forty　yards；　all　carry；　a　difficult　three。　Bond　chose　his　brassie　and　hit　a　good　one。　It　would　be　on　or　near　the　green。　Goldfinger's　routine　drive　was　well　hit　but　would　probably　not　have　enough　steam　to　carry　the　last　of　the　rough　and　trickle　down　into　the　saucer　of　the　green。　Sure　enough；　Goldfinger's　ball　was　on　top　of　the　protecting　mound　of　rough。　He　had　a　nasty；　cuppy　lie；　with　a　tuft　just　behind　the　ball。　Goldfinger　stood　and　looked　at　the　lie。　He　seemed　to　make　up　his　mind。　He　stepped　past　his　ball　to　take　a　club　from　the　caddie。　His　left　foot　came　down　just　behind　the　ball；　flattening　the　tuft。　Goldfinger　could　now　take　his　putter。　He　did　so　and　trickled　the　ball　down　the　bank　towards　the　hole。　It　stopped　three　feet　short。
　Bond　frowned。　The　only　remedy　against　a　cheat　at　go